That One Day in June
by Muggle Jane
Summary: Four drabbles taking place on the hottest day on record. Written for the HPFC Battle of the Houses
1. Elitist

**A/N: Not my characters, no money being made. A collection of drabbles for the HPFC Battle of the Houses.**

**Part 1, prompt: elitist**

It was hot. It was the hottest day on record, according to the Muggle news. Hermione fanned herself with a folded up copy of the Daily Prophet, but it didn't really help. She'd put her hair into a plait that morning and locks of her stubborn hair had escaped throughout the day and were clinging wetly to her forehead and neck. She felt like she was melting, and she'd give anything to be inside the ice cream parlor she was currently sitting outside of; at least Susan kept cooling charms going in there. But she was waiting.

And getting more and more cross by the minute. If he was blowing her off again, she was going to hex him so hard his unborn children would feel it. Her eyes narrowed and her fingers twitched for her wand. Two more minutes. Two more minutes and she was going to track him down and-

"Granger," came the smug drawl from the direction of the door to the ice cream parlor. "You look like you're melting."

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and turned to face him. There he was, blond and cool, lounged indolently against the door frame. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to sit down or what?"

"What, waste time here?" The pointed face twisted up into a sneer. "I thought you knew better than that."

She rolled her eyes and stood, dropping her hand heavily on his forearm, almost like a smack. Almost. "Fine." She twisted and compacted and then they were in his office at Malfoy Manor. "I don't understand why we can't actually this at, you know, _the shop_. Or outside Susan's ice cream parlor."

"Really, Granger? Conduct business in the _street _like a peasant?" He strode away from her and sat at the mahogany desk in an air of waiting.

"It takes all of two minutes. I give you money," here she pulled a small stack of clinking coins from her pocket and set it on the desk, "and you write me a receipt and then we have to Disapparate out of here. You were there anyway."

He made a big show of pouring the Galleons on the desk and counting them. When she gave a huff, he looked up and raised one eyebrow. "And now you've made me lose count, Granger, I'll have to start all over."

She rolled her eyes again and turned her back on him to pace to the window, waiting silently for him to finish. He was just as insufferable now as he had been in school. She wouldn't choose to interact with him even now, but apparently the Malfoys owned half of Diagon Alley, including her little apothecary shop. At least he was fair about the rent.

At last, a receipt appeared over her shoulder and she snatched it from him. She whirled and dropped her hand on his shoulder this time, and then they were back in Diagon Alley, just outside the door to her apothecary shop.

"See you next month," he said with a smirk, and Disapparated with a crack.


	2. Teamwork

**A/N: Not my characters, no money being made. A collection of drabbles for the HPFC Battle of the Houses.**

**Part 2, prompt: teamwork**

"Seamus!" Ginny recognized the sandy-haired young man in his shirtsleeves, carefully unpacking small boxes from a large wooden crate by hand.

He looked up from his work, swiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead. "Ginny! What brings you out here?"

"Came up to visit Neville. He had some spare time this morning." She came over to stop in front of him and peered into the crate. "Need a hand?"

"Thanks, love. It's fireworks, be very careful."

Together they pulled the remaining boxes out of the crate and then Seamus disappeared into the shop, emerging a moment later with George. He held the door so Ginny and Seamus could take the boxes inside, stacking them carefully in the back room. With the two of them, the job went fairly quickly. Seamus collected a small bag of clinking money from George and Ginny collected a hug from her brother and then they were both outside in the summer sunshine.

Seamus waved his wand at the empty crate and then picked up the shrunken wooden container and put it in his pocket. "Thanks a lot, Ginny. Buy you a drink, love?"

"Oh, please." Ginny was holding her shirt out from her chest and flapping it to create a breeze. A drink sounded like just the thing.

Together, they walked into the Three Broomsticks and, after securing some chilled butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta, sat down at a table to drink.

"It is hot outside," Seamus complained and gulped gratefully from his bottle.

"It's worse in London. I am _not _looking forward to going home."

"So don't."

Ginny looked at him across the table, eyebrows raised. "And what would I do instead?"

"Come back with me. I'll take you out, proper-like. Dinner, we'll go dancing." He smiled at her over his chilled bottle. "What do you say, love?"

She watched him for a moment, trying to detect any hint of mischief. "You asking me out, Finnigan?"

"I am," he answered quickly. "Fancied you for a long time, but you were with my best mate, and then Potter." He shrugged. "George said you were between lads."

"I'll need a shower first..." she started.

"Believe it or not, my flat has a shower."

"... And some clothes."

He laughed. "I am a little short on ladies' clothing."

"I'll just pop home and get some." She paused, still a little unsure if he was having her on or not. "Come with me?"

Just a few minutes later, they were in her flat. "You weren't kidding, it is hot," he said, aping her earlier action of fanning his chest with his shirt.

"I think I'll grab a shower now. Do you mind?"

"No, it's fine." He went to settle on one of her chairs, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Wash my back?"

He stared at her for a long moment and then a knowing smile spread across his face. "Love to."

They didn't make it back to Seamus' flat.


	3. Anger

**A/N: Not my characters, no money being made. A collection of drabbles for the HPFC Battle of the Houses.**

**Part 3, prompt: anger**

The door slammed, settling like a solid wall between them. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was tomorrow night's full moon, but Bill was in a bit of a temper. He took after his dad for the most part, even-keeled unless pushed just the right way. And Fleur... She knew exactly what buttons to push.

He glowered at the closed door and stalked out to the kitchen. She _always_ knew which buttons to push and she was doing it more and more recently. _It was enough to drive a man to drink._

His lips twisted up but there was no humor in the expression that came off as more of a grimace. The bottle was almost empty, he noted as he filled a small glass. Not a finger or even two, but the whole glass.

They would make up in the morning. Or rather, she would breeze about their house as though nothing had happened. And he would go along with it, as he always did. It got harder and harder to pretend things went back to normal every time they had a row.

_Very soon, I won't want to bother_. The thought was sobering and he stared into the brown liquid, considering what that meant. What would happen if he just stopped?

Charlie. He needed to talk to Charlie. He took his mostly-untouched drink with him and went into the sitting room where the fireplace was. He flooed his brother.

"Bill? Same again, is it?" his brother asked sympathetically.

They'd always been close, even when he'd gone off to Egypt and Charlie to Romania. Charlie was one of two other people who knew about his marital difficulties. "Yeah."

"Third time in a month," the younger man remarked.

His scowl deepened. "You've been talking to Luna."

"She's worried about you."

"Of course she is." The young witch had, upon staying her first night at Shell Cottage, taken Bill aside and informed him that Fleur was completely wrong for him. He'd brushed her off at the time, but lately he was starting to admit that she may have had a point.

"The house is family property, so you'd keep it if..." Charlie left the sentence hanging. He knew better than to directly bring up the "D" word.

But for once, his older brother didn't snap at him for even hinting about it. "Yeah," was all he said.

Charlie regarded the shaggy-haired head in the fireplace for a moment. "Do you have any holidays? You could come out here for a visit. Get away from... Things. Clear your head. Maybe you go back and maybe you don't, but I bet you could use some perspective."

"Yeah. I'll see what I can do, I'll floo you again tomorrow." He pulled his head out of the fire and bolted his drink. Getting away for a few days sounded like just the ticket.


	4. Wisdom

**A/N: Not my characters, no money being made. A collection of drabbles for the HPFC Battle of the Houses.**

**Part 4, prompt: wisdom**

"I need some advice."

Angelina was used to Ron dropping by the shop at all hours like he didn't have anything better to do, but usually he was there to see George. "Ok?" she answered, her tone lifting questioningly on the last syllable. She was just about to close up for the day and check in with George at Hogsmeade.

He came to a stop in front of her, sweating from the heat outside and studiously avoiding looking into her face. "You're a girl, right?"

"Thanks for noticing, Ron," she replied with a snort.

His ears glowed red. "I mean, of course you're a girl. But you know about girls. I mean... What girls like."

"Who is it?"

Her question seemed to take him off guard and he shuffled his feet, staring intently at a groove in the counter. "What do you mean?"

"Look, do you want advice or not?" She raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips, familiar from their shared Quidditch days. "We're not all the same, you know. I happen to like redheads and Quidditch and your best friend doesn't seem too chuffed about either."

There was a resounding crack from upstairs and then George came down the stairs to join them. "What do you want?" he asked Ron, not unpleasantly.

"Girl advice," Angelina replied for him with a grin.

"Fancy someone do you?" George teased, dropping a hand on top of his brother's head and ruffling his hair, hard.

He was answered by a scowl. "I know better than to tell you. I'd never hear the end of it and you'd like as not scare her off!"

"Oh, so there _is_ someone." George stepped back and tapped a finger thoughtfully against his chin.

"It's serious, George," Angelina chimed in. "He even noticed that I'm a girl."

"You'd better forget again, mate, she's spoken for," the older brother said evenly, making Angelina laugh and the color spread from Ron's ears down his neck. "As to the object of your affection, have you even talked to her yet?"

The silence that fell between them was his answer. "Talking to girls isn't easy."

"Sure it is. Watch this." George gestured to his girlfriend. "How was your day, Angelina?"

"Not too bad, thanks," she replied, still wearing a smile.

"See? You just sort-of open your mouth and have words come out." The shorter man leaned forward and winked. "I have it on good authority that they like it when you talk to them."

Ron scowled again. "I'll see you later." He left as quickly as he came, leaving the others to exchange a glance and a shrug.

"Well, we tried."


End file.
